


Flame

by mansikka



Series: Too Far [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Castiel, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am sorry, Jimmy.</p><p>These are the first words Cas finds himself consciously thinking. Feeling sorrow, and regret, and shame even, for what he's done to his vessel's body, both whilst Jimmy was still there with him and now that he has long gone.</p><p>Cas even wonders if what he's feeling is anything like what Jimmy would have felt; trapped, in a corner of his mind and only able to observe, or feel what was going on around him, but not being able to do a thing himself.</p><p>His memory is hazy, and while he lays here helpless in the dark, he tries to organise what he knows from what he only thinks he knows.</p><p>He remembers an ache that signalled a blade being slid into him. He remembers a raging heat instantly spreading out from his core as though it was setting every fibre of him ablaze, leaving him paralysed as the flames licked away. He remembers falling, gravel under his cheek, fingers pressed into dirt, and willing himself to move though he could not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flame

_ I am sorry, Jimmy. _

These are the first words Cas finds himself consciously thinking. Feeling sorrow, and regret, and  _ shame _ even, for what he's done to his vessel's body, both whilst Jimmy was still there with him and now that he has long gone.

Cas even wonders if what he's feeling is anything like what Jimmy would have felt; trapped, in a corner of his mind and only able to observe, or feel what was going on around him, but not being able to do a thing himself.

His memory is hazy, and while he lays here helpless in the dark, he tries to organise what he knows from what he only thinks he knows.

He remembers an ache that signalled a blade being slid into him. He remembers a raging heat instantly spreading out from his core as though it was setting every fibre of him ablaze, leaving him paralysed as the flames licked away. He remembers falling, gravel under his cheek, fingers pressed into dirt, and willing himself to move though he could not.

A war raged beneath his skin then, between his grace, his vessel's instinct to heal, and the poison that seeped through his very-human veins. But he was merely a shell; unable to have any influence over what was happening to him, left just to cling on, and hope that somehow it would pass.

Cas couldn't determine how long he had been laid face down in the dirt, and he couldn't quite remember when he'd had the strength to bring himself here. He did know that he'd woken up face down on a bed, wanting to press his skin into the softness in relief but not being able to move at all.

He's been awake since then. He knows Sam and Dean don't know it because he hears their open concern for him, feels their delicate care of his wound, remembers all too well the rancid smell of himself when he first arrived.

He's felt Dean's gentle fingers brush the back of his hand more than once, touching him for reasons other than tending to his wound, and curses himself repeatedly for cataloguing it all. For remembering previous times when he'd felt Dean's hand against his.

He's also heard the constant barrage of Dean's prayers, even louder now as they lay facing one another side by side, begging him to wake up.

He's trying; doesn't Dean know that he's trying?

***

Cas knows fear is to be an expected feeling to be having at the moment; there aren't many things in this universe that can render an angel lifeless like this, so he has no idea what's going on, or what the eventual outcome will be.

But the thing that's scaring him more than anything he believes to be an all too human thing; he cannot see what is going on around him, cannot interact with those who are caring for him, can only exist, as though he is in a coma.

That his senses are working is more curse than blessing, he thinks, listening to the worry in Sam's voice as he tries to get Dean to eat something. He hears his sigh, and his footfall as he leaves the room, and then feels Dean's fingers tracing over his own again.

Cas wonders all sorts of things about that. Why he's only allowing himself to touch Cas there. Why he's wanting to touch him in the first place when he's always seemed so angry to be close to him in the past. And why he's even caring for him at all, when clearly that's not something they can do for each other any more.

He doesn't know which is more confusing; these few, stolen touches, or the constant prayers that he can't escape from, can't tune out.

_ Cas, you gotta wake up. _

_ Listen. I know you can hear me, I know it, you've got to be able to hear me. _

_ I'm sorry, okay? I am, I'm sorry. You know what I'm like... I don't mean to be a dick, you know I don't. _

_ None of this is on you, you know? It's all me, all me. I never wanted to push you away. I've never wanted you to leave, either, but I've never let myself even think that out loud so... _

_ Please, Cas. Come back to me. Open your eyes, let me get out these words I need to say to you. _

_ What can I do? Tell me what to do, and I'll do it; you're scaring me, man, you're not moving, not moving at all, and I don't know if we should try and move you or leave you to rest, or... what? _

_ Please, Cas. How'm I ever gonna get the chance to make it up to you if you don't wake up? _

Cas doesn't know how to feel about any of what Dean is saying. All he can do is lay there, listening in the dark.

***

Skin on skin is the most... grounding... comforting of feelings, Cas allows himself to think, as he knows his body's being jostled and moved without any effort from himself.

He can feel the solid weight of Sam's palms against his shoulders and the hardness of his chest behind his head as he props him up. Sam feels of  _ reassurance _ , and wanting to help.

Dean, though. Dean feels different entirely. His fingers brush against Cas' neck as he unknots his tie, and skim along his chest as he unbuttons his shirt. He's so gentle, sliding the fabric of one arm of his clothing off of him, then supporting his neck to lift him as he slides the rest off and down the other from behind his back.

His fingertips brush over his ribs, and press into his jaw as he tries to get some water into Cas' mouth. And Cas is hit by thirst, of two kinds; suddenly feeling like his throat is an arid desert desperate for rain. And for more of Dean's skin on his, because Dean feels of  _ desire _ , and  _ want _ , and  _ heat _ .

Cas can only assume he's letting his confused imagination get the better of him, because this, all of this, is just too much. That he's been imagining such... things, in the first place, speaks of how far from angel towards humanity he truly has come.

There's something very humbling about Dean dressing him in his own shirt, and having Dean and Sam delicately move him to rest on his side. Cas feels cared for, and protected, and if he's honest, bewildered: he's not even felt so much as welcome near the Winchesters in the longest of times.

Cas feels Dean sink down onto the pillow beside him, and his fingers reach out to slip between his own. He can feel the weight of Dean's stare on him, and the ache that's radiating from him. And the telltale intake of breath that Cas has come to recognise as the quiet before the deluge of Dean's prayers.

_ Cas... _

_ You're too thin, man. I mean. I shouldn't be able to able to see your ribs. But how'm I gonna get you to eat, huh? You shouldn't even need to, should you? Does that mean you're human now? Or just sick? Or what? _

_ You gotta help me out, Cas. I need you. I need you, Cas. Not just... it isn't about needing you to help with case stuff, you know that right? I should never have made you feel like you were just something useful to us. _

_ You know I didn't mean it like that, right? I know how it sounded. I know what I said. But I didn't mean it, not any of it at all. _

_I need you... because I need_ you, _not_ _because I need you to_ do _something, okay?_

_ I don't know what this thing is. I don't. Well I guess I do, in some ways. But how'm I supposed to figure that out alone, huh? Don't leave me alone, Cas, don't. _

_ Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. _

_ I'd do it all over. I would. I'd take it back. I'd... force myself to be stronger for you, to... tell you things. Tell you the things you probably already know but I know I need to tell you out loud. _

_ You know, right? Don't you? That there's a thing here, between us? That... that's why I'm the way I am with you? _

_ It's not an excuse. It's not. But you've gotta already know how I feel, right? _

_ I'm... I know I can't... won't... say the words out loud, but. Otherwise. I'm not exactly subtle, am I? _

_ You know how I feel about you, Cas, don't you? You know what I really mean inside when I'm saying what I'm saying out loud? _

_ It isn't an excuse. I promise it isn't. But how'm I gonna fix things if you won't even respond to me, huh? _

_ Please,  _ please _ wake up for me, Cas. _

***

Cas feels an overwhelming surge of anger at Dean's words then. Because although yes, Dean does have a point about Cas being aware of some of Dean's less 'subtle' thoughts about him. Although Cas has always suspected that the longing he feels for Dean, despite not being able to explain it or not know quite how to deal with it, is somewhat reciprocated by him. Although Dean's confused by what he's feeling, and what maybe he thinks Cas is feeling. It doesn't mean Dean gets to use it like a weapon against him, or a leash to yank on whenever he wants Cas to come calling.

Having Dean admit that he's consciously choosing what he does, and doesn't say to him, makes Cas see just how much he's put up with from Dean over what seems like far too long for an angel who has been around forever. And reminds him succinctly why he tore himself away from Dean in the first place.

Cas isn't a toy to be played with and disposed of as and when Dean feels like it, says Cas' ire. He isn't a tool to be called to life at a moment's notice then discarded with barely any gratitude, says his anger. Cas is no human, and should not be touched by such things as desire, and want, and pain when he's pushed away. But he is, and he does feel those things, and Dean has no right to make him feel that way because he's not sure of what he wants  _ himself _ , says Cas' pride.

This anger surges through Cas, with every memory of Dean's treatment of him acting like kindle, and igniting him from deep within. Until there's a raging flame in his stomach, flickering and consuming its way through him, until he can force open his eyes and glare.

  
  
  



End file.
